


puppy dog tails

by birdjay



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Animal Shelter, Dogs, Domestic, Established Relationship, Fluff, Happy, M/M, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Surprises, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-11-27 23:56:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20957048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/birdjay/pseuds/birdjay
Summary: “Where are we going?” Bucky asks, shoving his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket.“Nu-uh, I’m not telling you anything. It’s called a surprise for a reason, Barnes,” Steve says, shaking his head. He shoves his feet into his shoes, and grabs his keys off the rack on the wall. “C’mon, I’ll drive.”“Haven’t been a Barnes in a few years, Rogers,” Bucky retorts with a laugh.Steve’s stomach goes warm at the sight of Bucky laughing. They’re married, actually properly married, with rings, and a certificate. Bucky had taken his last name. He’d never thought he’d get to have that, and here he is, with a husband. Steve lets the warm feeling grow for a moment, and then nudges Bucky out the door, locking up behind them.





	puppy dog tails

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CoraRochester](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoraRochester/gifts).

> cora!!! happy happy happy happy birthday!!!!!!!!!!! i'm so glad i know you, and that you're my friend. i hope you have a wonderful day, and that this little story just adds to it. i hope you like it! <3
> 
> this was beta'd by the lovely [em.](https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodmanperfectsoldier) she's amazing, i can't thank her enough for her help!

“Get your coat on,” Steve says, marching down the stairs. He’s holding his own jacket with one hand, and a pair of shoes hooked over two fingers of the other. He moves to the back of the couch and looks over it. Just as he suspected -- Bucky hasn’t moved since this morning.

“Mm why?” Bucky says, letting his head loll back against the couch cushions. He’s been nursing one soggy bowl of cereal for hours. It’s sitting in his lap, mostly empty except for the dredges of milk and a few marshmallows.

“Because I planned a surprise for you, and we have to go now if we’re going at all,” Steve says patiently. Some days it’s hard to get Bucky to do anything other than laze around and sleep. Steve understands why, really. If anyone on the planet deserves a rest, it’s the two of them, but Bucky especially. Bucky deserves everything Steve can give him, and then some. So if that means he wants to spend the day on the couch watching reruns of I Love Lucy, then so be it. Steve hums under his breath for a moment, and then adds, “If you’re not dressed under that blanket, go put some clothes on.”

Bucky scowls at him a little playfully, but lifts the blanket enough to show off a pair of loose jeans and a long-sleeved red henley that Steve’s sure is his. Bucky has a habit of stealing his clothes -- most of the time right out of the hamper. “I’m _ dressed _, Jesus, Steve.”

“Well, some days you don’t…” Steve says, shrugging. It doesn’t bother him any if Bucky wants to pad around the house in nothing but soft pajamas with llamas on them. What does he care, as long as Bucky is happy and comfortable? Hell, he bought Bucky the llamas pajamas himself.

Bucky tilts his head this way and that, and then nods. “Fine, that’s fair. Gimme five minutes?”

“You have three,” Steve offers, with a smile. 

Bucky rolls his eyes, but sets the cereal bowl on the coffee table and pulls himself up to his feet. He stretches his arms, metal and flesh, up towards the ceiling, and then with one final look at Steve, disappears up the stairs towards their bedroom. While he’s gone, Steve grabs the bowl and washes it out in the kitchen sink. By the time he’s done putting it in the dishwasher, Bucky’s waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs, yanking his hair back into a low bun.

“Where are we going?” Bucky asks, shoving his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket.

“Nu-uh, I’m not telling you anything. It’s called a surprise for a reason, Barnes,” Steve says, shaking his head. He shoves his feet into his shoes, and grabs his keys off the rack on the wall. “C’mon, I’ll drive.”

“Haven’t been a Barnes in a few years, _ Rogers_,” Bucky retorts with a laugh. 

Steve’s stomach goes warm at the sight of Bucky laughing. They’re _ married_, actually properly married, with rings, and a certificate. Bucky had taken his last name. He’d never thought he’d get to have that, and here he is, with a _ husband_. Steve lets the warm feeling grow for a moment, and then nudges Bucky out the door, locking up behind them. 

The car ride takes about fifteen minutes, during which Bucky does not stop asking where they’re headed. He tries various ways -- playing truth or dare, or 20 questions or other silly games in the attempt to get Steve to let _ something _ slip. Steve doesn’t relent, nor does he give anything away. He’s not telling him where they’re headed, but soon enough they arrive.

Steve pulls into a parking space, and shuts the car off. He turns, and raises his eyebrows at Bucky, waiting for some sort of reaction before getting out of the car. He _ thinks _he judged this right, but there’s always the off chance this isn’t something Bucky actually wanted. 

“Steve, are you serious right now?” Bucky asks, in a deadly quiet sort of voice. His face has gone pale, eyes huge.

The building they’re parked in front of is clearly labelled CITY ANIMAL SHELTER in huge silver letters above the door. Steve glances at the building, and then back at Bucky, and nods once. 

“Yeah,” Steve says, barely able to hold back a grin. “You’ve been talking about wanting a pet, so…” He gestures towards the shelter. He’d contacted the shelter about a week ago to plan a visit. He knew they could have just walked in any old time, but he wanted this to be _ special _for Bucky. And well, he’d had other things he’d wanted to arrange with the person of highest authority. 

“Steve,” Bucky repeats, in a pleading voice.

“Do you want to go in?” Steve asks, reaching for his door handle. “C’mon, we’re meeting one of the managers.”

Bucky lets out a little whine, and then throws himself out of the car. Right away, he’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, waiting for Steve to catch up. 

“You think you want a dog or a cat?” Steve asks, taking his husband’s hand as they make their way up the short sidewalk to the door. The grass around the walk is a little brown in spots, maybe from dogs using it as a bathroom? Steve blinks at it for a moment before pulling Bucky forward. He thinks he already knows the answer to his own question, but it never hurts to hear Bucky’s reply.

Bucky’s quiet as he ponders the question. Steve pulls open the door, and pushes him gently through, and then follows. Right inside, there is a small lobby area, a desk behind a window, and a series of ugly maroon waiting chairs. The smell reaches his nose immediately -- bleach and the undisguisable scent of many, many animals all in one place. There’s incessant barking coming from the back of the building, with fainter meows from somewhere closer.

A frazzled-looking woman appears from around the desk holding a clipboard and a walkie-talkie. She smiles at them both. “Captain Rogers?” she asks, hopeful. She adds, a little less sure, “And, uh, Mr...uh...Rogers?”

Steve nods, holding out a hand. “That’s me. This is my husband, Bucky. You’re Roberta Garcia?”

She smiles, shaking his hand firmly. “Yes, sir. We really can’t thank you enough for -- “

“Oh no, no, please. It was nothing,” Steve says quickly, waving her gratitude off. People like this always make him uncomfortable. He’s just done what was _ right_, what he _ could_. He doesn’t deserve to be thanked like he’s some gracious god or something. 

“But you…”

“No, don’t mention it, really,” Steve says, with a huge smile. He can feel Bucky’s stare on the side of his face. “We’re here to see some animals?”

“Oh! Yes!” Roberta says, perking up considerably. She motions them towards a set of battered, red double doors. The paint is peeling around the edges. “They’re all back this way. Do you want to see the dogs or cats first?”

Steve turns to look at Bucky for the answer. He looks torn, but Steve knows his husband. There’s really only one answer here, and after a second, Bucky gives it.

“Um. The dogs? Please?” Bucky asks, wringing his hands. 

“Of course!” Roberta says, brightly. She pushes through the doors, holding one open for them. Leading them down the hallway, she motions at other doors as they pass. One is labeled ‘The Nursery,’ with colorful childish crayon drawings taped to the front of it. “The cats are in those two rooms. Kittens and younger babies in one, and then older, seniors in the other.”

“Do you get many cats here?” Steve asks, politely. 

She sighs, nodding. “More than we can take in, honestly. We deal with a few fosters in the area to take the overflow. It’s...frustrating.” She leads them through another set of doors, and then suddenly, the barking is all the louder. Roberta turns and smiles at them, though it doesn’t quite meet her eyes. She says quickly, “Big dogs are down those two rows, and smaller down the other two. Take as long as you want. If you want to meet anyone face to face, just let me know. You can take them outside and meet them properly then.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Bucky says softly, before heading towards the larger dog section -- just as Steve predicted he would. Nothing against small dogs, but Steve has never liked them. They’re always so barky, high-pitched and relentless. So determined to prove themselves. They always remind him of himself when he was younger, except all the meaner, more eager to bite. No, if they’re going home with a dog today, it’s going to be a larger one. One they can rough house with. Play fetch, go on long walks. One that can keep up with them both.

“I’ll be up front,” Roberta says, flashing a much more real smile. She heads back out, leaving them alone with all the dogs. The barking is ridiculous, the sound somehow bouncing off the cinder block walls and getting louder.

Steve turns to follow Bucky, hanging back a bit to let him make his own decision. This dog is for Bucky. Sure, Steve will help take care of it, will love it, but _ Bucky _ is the one who’s wanted a pet since they were kids. Now that they’re adults, now that they have money, now that they’re retired from heroics, Steve can finally give Bucky what he’s always wanted.

“What sort of dog do you want?” Steve asks, squatting down by the end of a cage. A beautiful black mutt hangs out at the back, curled up on a raised bed. She looks terrified. Steve sticks a few fingers through the chain-link of the door, trying to persuade her to get up and greet him. Instead, she watches him from where she is, with wide brown eyes.

“I’ll know it when I see it,” Bucky replies, flashing a delighted look towards Steve. He’s glowing with happiness as he walks up and down the aisle, pausing every now and then to offer his hand to a dog to smell. The barking doesn’t lessen up the entire time. But it isn’t until they go down the second aisle that Bucky truly stops dead in his tracks. “This one,” Bucky says, squatting down by the door.

Steve moves to look into the same cage. There laying pressed up against the door, so close that its fur pokes through, is a dog. Steve isn’t sure what type of dog it is -- a quick glance at the adoption sheet taped to the door tells him, though. “She’s a coonhound mix named Copper,” Steve reads aloud. “A real sweetheart, this says. Oh.” Steve’s voice falls as he continues reading. “She was surrendered after her owner passed away. No one in the family could take her in.”

Bucky tsks, reaching out to push his fingers through the chain-link door. He gets a good touch of her fur, and that wakes her up enough to go absolutely crazy. She pops up onto her feet, her entire rear-end wagging. She barks once, shoving her nose towards Bucky’s fingers. “You poor thing,” Bucky says, frowning up at the adoption paper. The frown quickly disappears as Copper does her best to lick the skin directly off Bucky’s fingers. “Can we meet her?”

“Sure,” Steve says, smiling. “I’ll go grab Roberta.”

***

The outside area of the shelter is actually behind the building -- a huge fenced in yard full of random dog toys. There’s no one else outside right now, leaving Steve and Bucky wandering around the grass by themselves until Roberta arrives with Copper in tow. Roberta bends at the waist, and lets Copper off leash as soon as the door is shut behind them. 

Copper waits approximately half a second after the leash is gone to dart full speed at them. She runs into Bucky’s legs without pausing, throwing herself at him with wild abandon. Bucky plants himself and lets her rub up against him. She barks, but instead of a loud, canine noise, it comes out as more of a squeak. It’s adorable. She’s so clearly starved for attention that Bucky immediately bends and starts running his hands over her back, pausing to rub at her ears. Her entire body seems to wag as Bucky touches her.

“Hey girl, you okay? You’re okay, I promise,” Bucky whispers to her as he pets. Steve watches from next to them, not wanting to interfere on their first meeting. “You’re real pretty, y’know that?’ Bucky asks, gently grabbing Copper’s face and holding it so he can look at her properly. She licks at his hands, over and over. Bucky presses a kiss to the end of her snout. Copper tries to lick his face.

Steve wishes he could take a picture without Bucky complaining about it. This is clearly a moment, here. One for the scrapbook, if they were inclined to such things. But Bucky is as vain as he ever was, and won’t let Steve photograph him unless he’s done his hair properly and completed his 18-step skin care routine. It’s rare that Steve actually gets to take pictures of his own husband. The gallery on his phone is full of carefully taken candid shots that he hides under a secret folder. If he doesn’t, Bucky deletes them without warning. 

Steve watches for another minute or two, smiling the entire time. Copper doesn’t even remotely calm down -- she looks ready to try and climb into Bucky’s arms. Bucky looks ready to let her.

“You wanna try and play fetch with her?” Steve asks, glancing around the yard for something to throw. There’s an orange plastic stick-thing over by the wall that might work.

“Do you think she’ll let me stop touching her long enough to go get the ball?” Bucky asks, doubtfully. He looks up at Steve, and it’s so easy to see that he’s beyond ecstatic. They’re leaving today with Copper, Steve knows it in his bones.

Heading towards the plastic stick-object, Steve shrugs. “Maybe? I don’t know much about dogs, Buck. You know that.” He picks up the toy, discovering that it is literally a piece of plastic molded to look like a stick. He tosses it between his two hands for a bit, watching as Copper’s head swivels around to look at him. Her eyes watch the toy as it goes from hand to hand. 

“Well, we can try, I guess,” Bucky answers, pulling himself up to his full height. Copper tries to follow as he moves, but ends up sitting at his feet, leaning back against his legs. It’s damn cute.

“Catch,” Steve says, hurling the toy towards Bucky.

Copper jumps up and snatches it out of the air before Bucky even has a chance to raise his arm. She turns, and drops it as his feet, sitting back down, and wagging her tail excitedly. He dissolves into laughter, melting with it.

“Well, I guess she likes fetch,” Bucky says, between giggles. He picks up the toy and throws it at the opposite end of the yard. It sails gracefully until Copper zooms out through the grass, jumps, and catches it with seemingly no exertion at all. She trots back to them, dropping the toy by Bucky’s boots once more.

They play fetch for a full fifteen minutes, stopping only when Roberta pops her head back out to check on them. Copper is panting on the ground, sides heaving with effort. Steve herds them back inside, steering the conversation towards adoption. They fill out an application -- it takes all of two seconds. Roberta gives it a cursory glance, and announces them approved. 

Approximately an hour and a half after walking into the shelter, they walk back out, Copper between them. 

Her tail never stops wagging.

Bucky never stops smiling.

***

It’s been a long day. A good day, no doubt, but a long one. They’d fallen into bed about an hour earlier, bodies exhausted after heading to the pet store, introducing Copper to the house, and playing with Copper for hours. She’d taken everything gracefully, eager to please and follow them around just about anywhere. 

They’d done a lot. More than they were used to these days.

“Steve?” Bucky asks, voice quiet. “What was Roberta talking about earlier?"

“Mm?” Steve says, blinking awake. He’s mostly asleep still, as it’s close to midnight and they were out back with the dog -- _ their _ dog -- for a long, long time. He rolls over, and squints at Bucky in the darkness. “What?”

“She kept tryin’ to thank you for something. What’d you do?” Bucky asks, reaching over and running a hand down Steve’s arm. His hand is unusually warm, probably because it’s been under the dog for the past half an hour. Copper is between them, snoring away on top of the covers. Every now and then her tail thumps against the mattress.

“Oh,” Steve says, around a yawn. He covers it with a palm before answering, “I paid for the entire shelter’s adoption fees.” He’d done it without thinking much about it -- he could afford it and it wasn’t like they were going to be hurting for cash anytime soon. Plus the animal shelter seemed to really need the extra money -- it was pretty worn down, and well, Steve wanted to help, so he did. Hell, he was thinking about going back and offering pure man hours, too. He knew Bucky would come with, no question. Anything they could do to help all those animals, they’d do.

His brain bounced around the idea for a moment, considering. Maybe he could ask Sam about getting some veterans in on the action, see if he could donate more adoption fees to get people animals who needed them.

“_ Steve_,” Bucky says, thickly. His voice sounds a bit wet.

“What?”

Quiet rings out between them.

Bucky sniffs, and then says, soft as anything, “I love you.”


End file.
